My friend Tore and I returned to Oak Point Park, one week after the Fish Tale / Great Flood. The plan was to observe the damage and cleanup operation. I also planned on documenting the dead fish in fields and the crawdad bits left by birds.
I was happy to see homes were rebuilt. Crawdads seemed to have even larger structures.
The sidewalk was no longer under water but it looks like a dirt road.
We paused at a small bridge and looked at a marshy area. There might still be fish trapped there.
I turned to head back to the main trail. But we noticed a butterfly landed on me. I was able to twist enough to see it on my lower back— near my waist. We took some photos. The butterfly remained.
I started walking slowly, assuming the butterfly would fly away. It did not.
Tore walked behind me— ready to report when it flew away. But it didn’t. I still had a butterfly on my back.
We stopped for more photos. The butterfly remained. We came up with elaborate nonsensical reasons why a butterfly would land on a black t-shirt. Clearly she was a fan of this new tee I picked up at a concert the night before. There was no other reasonable explanation.
The new goal was to walk to a bench along the trail. I will be able to say I walked from the fish cemetery to the bench. I reached the bench and the butterfly was still on me.
Then we reached the pond and marveled at how far we made it with a butterfly still on my back. By this time Butter and I were friends. She didn’t seem ready to leave. I decided I was her transportation. Maybe she was tired and needed a ride. Tore did transport a wasp on his hat last week. Word must be spreading in the community. We are the equivalent of the DART (Dallas Area Rapid Transit) system but for winged creatures. I can accept that. It’s better than having a tick or a grasshopper on the inside of my pant leg. (I’m still spooked by those incidents).
To make the journey pleasant I decided Butter would enjoy some music: Build Me Up Buttercup. 🙂
I played the music and we continued to walk.
Then the inevitable happened.
Tore: “She’s gone!”
I don’t know why I did this— but I extended my arms out. I guess I was reaching for her as she flew away. When I brought my hands back near me, there she was. Butter was now on my fingers.
We took more photos and videos. She was not the least perturbed or alarmed. Butter and I continued our walk around the pond. We passed similar looking butterflies— I pointed them out to her as proof that she didn’t lose her entire family during The Great Flood. (I solemnly passed one of her presumed family members, deceased on the sidewalk.)
We reached the other end of the pond. It was more exposed to wind. I did my best to shield her. I was also aware the moment would not last. And I was right. She was ready to fly away. She headed into the woods. I said goodbye to Butter and we marveled at the incredible distance I was able to walk her.
The time stamp on my photos is fascinating. The first photo I took with my cell phone was at 3:18 pm. The last photo I took was at 4:06 pm. Butter was on me for at least 48 minutes at the park. (Tore took photos on his phone, I don’t have the time stamp. The butterfly was likely on me for a few more minutes).
Here is a map courtesy of Google Maps that shows the park. I marked the trail I walked with Butter to give you perspective of how crazy it was to have a butterfly hitch a ride on me. (Click the image to see larger view)
That concludes the hard to believe but true story of Butter, the Butterfly at Oak Point Park. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, this is my favorite park, as you can well imagine.
Videos courtesy of Tore. Photos were an assortment from my iPhone and Canon 5D Mark IV.
Date: September 30, 2018